Throwback Thursday: Dear 35-Year-Old Self

Here is a story I wrote in August 2002, just a month before Signa was born.  I added updates in brackets, just in case you wanted to know.

I feel old. I turned 35 last month and 35 is old. I was 15 when my mom was 35. I remember that she was old when I was 15. (sorry, Mom, but you were a lot older then, I think.)  [Dear Self, 35 was not old.  Shut the fuck up.]

I wear open-toed shoes now. And I let other people touch my feet. I don’t just have my toes painted by these other people; I have pictures painted on them and then make everyone look. On the Fourth of July, I even had a picture taken of the flags decorating my digits. [I am now too old for the pictures.  It's hard enough trying to get them to understand that I want paint on them.  To also explain pictures is just beyond the patience I now have left.]

I can’t see why a 15-year-old needs a cell phone. I see the 15-year-old and think the word “kid” in my head. Why would a kid need a cell phone? They are in school all day where a ringing phone should be a no-no and the rest of the day, they are at home, where there is a phone. I just don’t see why a portable one would be needed.  [They are needed so that you don’t have to wait for them.  You can drop them off and come back at the exact right time.  Convenience, 35-year-old self.  Convenience.  Plus, the games keep them busy when you need to do things like edit writings from 12 years ago.]

I collect recipes. I don’t usually make any of the food, but I do collect recipes. I’ve even been known to use the words, “Oh, I have a great recipe for that! Let me share it with you.” [USE THE FUCKING RECIPES.  Seriously.  There is no room for collecting shit you are not going to use.  Use ‘em or lose ‘em.  GO.  NOW.  Because I know that the 47-year-old self is still doing this same crap.]

I research genealogy. Even though I’m not old ENOUGH to say things to my nephew like, “When I was your age…” I do say things like, “Your great, great, great grandmother made rugs and gave them out to friends and family in Iowa.” By the time I get to the second “great,” he’s already hating me and wishing I were a deaf mute. [Okay. So this one hasn’t changed, except it’s my own children I say this to.  Sue me.]

I look for sale items, rather than just buying the thing that has the best commercial or the cereal with the best toy. “Spiced Heated-Bread Munch” is close enough to “Cinnamon Toast Crunch” for me. And it doesn’t even come with any toy. [Gave up on this.  No one in the house will eat Spiced Heated-Bread Munch and they all want the toy from the commercial.  You gotta pick your battles.  And I don’t care enough about saving money and looking for sale items.  I care more about not hearing whining and not seeing Spiced Heated-Bread Munch from 12 years ago still in the pantry, having made two moves with us.]

I wave my fist and call people “jackasses” on the freeway when they don’t merge properly. I’m sure it’s still them and not me; I’m not THAT old. [Also not changed.  But I drive more now, so it’s understandable.]

I decline long car trips because they make my back hurt and the frequency of urination is too much to get from one rest stop to the next. Even though this is pregnancy-induced, I don’t know that it will ever go away.  [It went away.  Now I decline long car trips because I DO THEM TWICE A DAY FIVE DAYS A WEEK.]

Also regarding pregnancy, even if my breast size doesn’t decrease from this glorious new “B” back to the usual “A”, I’m sure that the “B” won’t be in the same place as the little “A”s used to be- the “B”s will be lower. Much, much lower. [TMI, but I was oh-so correct.]

I cut out cute articles and pictures to show to others. “Here, Jane, check out this Dear Abby letter about new ways to combat incontinence.” [Dear 35-year-old Self.  WHAT. THE. FUCK.  No one cared what you had to say then.  No one needed cute articles.  And thank you for stopping the forwarding of jokes.  Now you just post them on Facebook and people can look if they want.  HA HA!  Didn’t see that one coming, did you?!?]

I seek out facial products that contain ingredients to deflect the signs of aging. I use eye cream diligently, night and day, and actually know what part of my body the “décolletage” is. [Still doing this, only now my products aren’t to DEFLECT the signs of aging but nicely titled, “Advanced Age Fighting.”  Good luck, facial products.  The only way to fight age is to not do it.]

I wear my glasses to bed to watch television and then forget to take them off before turning the light off. I fumble in the dark to get them onto the nightstand without dropping them into the glass of water. Thankfully, there are no teeth floating in the water. Yet. [Yay!  Still no floating teeth.  And I think I have mostly mastered getting my glasses to the bedside table.  Although, there have been a couple times when they go off the edge and I think, “I better remember that happened in the morning.”  Then morning comes and I’m all, “WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY GLASSES?” and I look all over the house, the car, the other car, and empty my purse before I remember.]

The classic “Generation Gap” of yesteryear whereby Their generation was so out of touch with Our Generation now puts me as one of Them. We dyed our hair. What will my daughter be dying???? And how can she possibly think THAT looks good??? [Seriously.  She wears yellow shorts and a weird Minecraft totally not matching green shirt.  How can that be cool?  But she is, so it’s fine.  So far no dying of anything.  But she’s 12.  Give it time.]

I saw a commercial about Long Term Care insurance and thought about purchasing some. Also saw a commercial about additional life insurance and it sounded nice. I think I’ll buy-up on that through work next year. [LTC was hideously expensive and so I didn’t get it.  I did get the additional life insurance, but only because if these people in my house kill me I die, the family can live on in the manner to which they are accustomed.  Now I’m too old and unhealthy for more of this insurance.  The underwriters would laugh and point.]